


To watch the sunflowers shrivel

by Mirror_Face



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe, Conversations, Gen, M/M, Nagito’s a ghost, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_Face/pseuds/Mirror_Face
Summary: Hajime listened to the man- thing? monster? ghost?- as he waxed poetically about the beauty and majesty of humans, surrounded by the presence of crumpled sunflowers.He had forced himself to turn around- lay on his back- so curious, despite himself.The image of an illusion- smoky and white- someone made entirely of the world hovered above. His face was pale, impossible to be illuminated under the rays of the sun. He had messy hair as well, but it seemed to be still, no matter the strength of the wind that tried to lift it. And, just like Hajime had guessed, a polite smile was etched on to the man’s reality-breaking face.Hajime already wanted to punch him.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	To watch the sunflowers shrivel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunflower_8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/gifts).



The first time Hajime had met the man, he was rushing past the hazy fields- tumbling over dirt mounds and crushing already fallen sunflowers as he ran. He ran fast and fast and fast, until he couldn’t be caught at all.

Well, he had been running fast, not until he’d tripped and fallen over a tangle of dead flowers (it was hard to refer to them as ‘sunflowers’ when they were so dark and crumpled), foot hooked and boot caught. 

He let out an “oomph” for his troubles, landing face down on the hardness of the earth. Hajime just lay there for a while, breathing it all in.

He didn’t want to leave the world.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. The touch felt cold and phantom-like, so soft with light fingers that seemed far too grown to be a child’s. “ _What are you doing here_?” The person asked.

“ _What do you think?_ ” He couldn’t help but ask, rude and tired every word through.

“ _I don’t know._ ” The person said simply, and Hajime could imagine that they were shrugging their shoulders, all suave- so completely _not-curious_.

The stranger didn’t press for answers or details, and Hajime tried to take in the quiet with glee. Though, it was hard once he’d realized that chills were still tingling up and down his spine, like an odd dance with no music or people to try. His lungs felt so cold and frosty. The man’s hand still laid on his shoulder, unmoving- so cold.

Hajime growled in annoyance. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with this random stranger’s oddness. He at least deserved some type of break. Some type of isolation, in this magical field of no one but the golden brown sunflowers, both living and crumbling in the autumn afternoon. The world could be so unfair sometimes (and yet, there he was, face pressed against the smothering mud of the earth, somehow not able to remove himself from it).

“ _Stop touching me._ ”

The person (though he was pretty sure, by the sound of his voice, that the stranger was a man) chuckled, detracting his hand away. Hajime could hear the polite smile in his voice, “ _Oh, I’m so sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, sometimes I have a hard time remembering what it’s like to touch a person, I suppose I’m not using the usual mannerisms. How out of place I must be! I’m so sorry, a filthy citizen of the Nothing doesn’t even deserve to be around someone so alive like you, let alone even touching you! I…_ ”

And Hajime just listened to the man- thing? monster? ghost?- as he waxed poetically about the beauty and majesty of humans, surrounded by the field of faded sunflowers.

He had forced himself to turn around- lay on his back- so curious, despite himself.

The image of an illusion- smoky and white- someone made entirely of the world hovered above. His face was pale, impossible to be illuminated under the rays of the sun. He had messy hair as well, but it seemed to be still, no matter the strength of the wind that tried to lift it. And, just like Hajime had guessed, a polite smile was etched on to the man’s reality-breaking face.

Hajime already wanted to punch him.

* * *

Hajime came the next day, curious- enraptured- by the idea of a phantom man. He’d placed his school bag down next to him and sat, hearing the rustling of dried petals crackling under his weight.

He closed his eyes, soaking in the sun for a moment- before opening them back up. From the corner of his eye, Hajime could see the wispy phantom’s limbs emit a dull light. Like the moon. A mysterious bright silver.

“ _Nagito…_ ” He breathed, because he’d remembered the man whispering it into his ear (words more reminiscent of a shiver than an idea) right before he’d left for home. “ _That’s you?_ ”

Hajime could almost hear the smirk in the ghost’s voice, “ _Of course. And what shall I, one of Nothing, call you, fair boy of the Living?_ ”

“ _Oh… um, Hajime. Hajime Hinata. I guess I'm glad to meet you?_ ”

“ _Don’t be fooled. And don’t lie._ ” Nagito scoffed, “ _Talking with me will just give you bad luck._ ”

“ _You can’t go lower than rock bottom._ ”

“I _s that really what you think?_ ”

“ _Well, I guess there’s drowning underneath all the rubble- but sometimes I would prefer that._ ”

Nagito simply said, “ _You wouldn’t say that after the fact._ ”

Hajime, not knowing exactly what to say, did nothing. Just mulled over the words of the dead man. It was a few minutes before Hajime attempted to pick up the conversation.

“ _So how’d you die?_ ” Hajime asked, because wasn’t that the perfect icebreaker to ask a ghost?

Nagito just chuckled, all mysterious and mystical, “ _It’s a pretty boring answer._ ” He warned, not offended in the slightest.

“ _I’m pretty sure that dying in general is pretty interesting._ ”

“ _Ah, well, I was just sick. Pretty common- a large amount of citizens of the Nothing probably die the same way. I’m nothing special, just a lowly phantom that enjoys the autumn season. Aren’t the fallen flowers just so hopeful?”_

“ _How exactly?_ ” He indulged, staring straight ahead, the sun shining through a cloud and onto his face.

“ _Sunflowers are so hopeful and bright- when they die, it reminds me of how they always come back again next spring. How wonderful they are!_ ”

“ _Aren’t you jealous of them?_ ” He asked before he could stop himself, “ _They’ll always come back, but…_ ”

The ghost shook his head, glancing down to look at Hajime, “ _I_ _am simply not deserving enough to be a flower. You shalln’t fight fate. If you’re not a flower, you’re just not good enough to be._ ”

“ _That’s…_ _that’s pretty negative of you._ ” Because he couldn’t just outright disagree with the philosophy of a dead man.

Hajime had almost expected for Nagito to apologize, to let the polite smile return and swallow up his soul. To be a coward and say ‘sometimes I just get carried away’.

He didn’t. Nagito simply stood, tapping his feet and shaking his head, like he was trying to explain something to a small child. He was silent.

Hajime, seething, also stayed quiet- trying not to think about the easy lives of flowers. (Trying to not be too ashamed about it- because hoping for something pointless didn’t make you the higher person.) But, trying not to let the conversation die, Hajime asked another question that he was curious about.

“ _What’s it like to die?_ ” 

Nagito hummed softly, “ _Forgive me for such a lackluster answer, but I can’t say that I exactly remember. It’s been so long since then. All I remember is nothing, then everything._ ”

Hajime let out a huff, annoyed at the vagueness that the ghost had presented. At least it wasn’t like the answer to the first question. “ _Nothing? What does that feel like?_ ”

“ _You cannot describe nothing. I mean, can you describe me?_ ”

Hajime shrugged, “ _You’re wispy._ ”

“ _Simply an illusion!_ ” Nagito said flippantly. “ _I am just another one of the Nothing._ ”

“ _You do mention Nothing a lot. What’s that about anyways?_ ”

“ _The living can’t know._ ”

“ _I doubt I’ll be alive much longer._ ”

Nagito sneered, “ _Be more grateful._ ”

Hajime just tried to quell his temper, breathed in and out. Stopped a storm of words from leaving his mouth- yelling, screaming about how a dead man can’t understand the pain of living. But it wasn’t like Hajime knew the pain of death either. It would’ve made him a hypocrite if he’d said anything.

So he just turned around and left, remembering to take his school bag with him.

Nagito said nothing.

* * *

It took a week before Hajime found it in himself to return, hoping that Nagito would still be there. He was (Hajime found it hard to think of the field without him there, watching with wistful eyes).

“ _You’re back._ ” Was all he said, not looking at him- staring straight ahead as Hajime sat on a nest of battered sunflowers.

“ _I wish I wasn’t._ ”

“ _Stop being ungrateful._ ”

“ _Why should I be grateful?_ ”

“ _Because fate said you deserve to live. Isn’t that enough? Aren’t you lucky?_ ”

“ _Why don’t you look further than yourself. I hate this._ ”

“ _You shouldn’t._ ”

“ _But I do._ ”

Nagito sighed, “ _The dead are worthless, you know? Ha… I can't do anything. I was always weak and worthless, but I was better than this. Better than nothing._ ”

Hajime blinks, hearing something odd in his tone. He looks over, seeing the smothering wisps of pure cold- of pure undead- curling, making up Nagito’s body. “ _Do you miss life that badly?_ ”

“ _The dead get what’s coming. What’s meant to be is meant to be._ ”

He'd avoided the question.

“ _I hate it here._ ”

“ _Then leave._ ”

“ _It’s too hard._ ”

“ _Some would call you lazy._ ”

“ _What would you call me?_ ”

“ _Ungrateful. The lack of life should be hard to obtain, just as it’s impossible to get it back._ ”

Hajime chokes on a bitter laugh, not knowing what else to say.

* * *

No matter what, Hajime always kept going back. Kept returning to the dead man that hated himself and loved the world so much that he refused to question it. It was so frustrating…

But it always felt wrong to not be there, watching the dwindling of flowers together. He always came back, and Nagito was always there. A handsome, distant light that would always be right next him. (Hajime found it rather funny that his main reason for living was for a dead man. For a ghost of the past that couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but fate and luck. It was also pretty sad- but Hajime tried not to think about it that way.)

They were done with the icebreaker questions, Hajime’s srupid venting that Nagito was no help with, they were done being strangers.

It felt weird, for Hajime to have someone that could be considered a friend. To have a ghost as a friend. They couldn’t really talk, but Nagito was there. In the fields- all alone with Hajime. Just a mysterious beauty in the autumn sun.

“ _Have you ever thought about what your life would be like if you hadn’t died?_ ”

“ _Perhaps I would have._ ” Was the only response he got.

“ _Why don’t you?_ ”

“ _Because why would I question fate?_ ” Of course that would be his answer. He never changed his answer- it was always the same and Hajime couldn’t understand why. Did Hajime really not have any impact on Nagito’s life?

Or maybe ghosts really were just static, never-changing beings. Hajime could never be sure what was going on in Nagito’s head.

One day, he asked, “ _What are you going to do once fall ends? Just stare at the dead flowers as they drown in the snow?_ ”

“ _I_ _’ll just leave- to watch hope live and die and live again. Autumn is always happening, you know._ ”

“ _Somewhere else?_ ”

“ _Somewhere else._ ”

Hajime ignored the pang of hurt that stabbed through his heart at the unbothered way Nagito talked about abandoning him. All alone.

Nagito’s eyes softened, “ _It’s for the best that I’m not here. I’m not very deserving of your presence anyways._ ”

“ _Who decides if you’re not deserving of my presence?_ ”

“ _I’m nothing, you’re everything. It’s just how it’s supposed to be._ ”

It almost made him feel ashamed that his heart was still beating.

* * *

The day was sweet with fond autumn wind as Hajime laid on his back, among the sunflowers, among his friend. Nagito never really instigated conversation, and at the moment Hajime would rather think than speak. Think about how he wished he could truly touch Nagito. Wonder why ghosts had to be so permanently nonexistent- why it was impossible to do something simple like hold his hand or run his fingers through his hair.

Hajime spent quite a lot of time wishing that Nagito was something more than a simple ghost- so easy to cast away and pretend that he was an illusion. Hajime wondered what it was like to kiss a ghost.

“ _Oh._ ”

Nagito turned to look at him, and Hajime noticed how fascinating the eyes of the dead really were. How beautiful the absence of a soul could be. Nagito hummed, as if to ask ‘what’s wrong?’.

“ _I think I’ve fallen in love with you._ ” Hajime said, so softly that the words had barely touched his lips. So breathy, so anxious, so unsure.

His heart pounded, and he knew that he had made a mistake as soon as he saw the look on Nagito’s face. “ _Y_ _ou’re probably mistaken._ ” Because of course that’s what he would say.

Hajime sighed, not knowing what to say. What to do. How to feel. He wished that he had the patience- the confidence- to stand up and argue. To say more ‘I love you’ just a little more confidently.

The phantom, Nagito- his friend, flickered next to him, radiating cold. A simple reminder that he wasn’t exactly real.

“ _Perhaps._ ” Is what he said, because what else was he supposed to do?

The rest of their time together was silent, neither talking as they listened to dying sunflowers get crushed under the weight of the world’s wind.

  
  


(The next day, Hajime arrived at the very same sunflower field, empty and dull as winter started to etch away on the autumn day. He waited for Nagito to come and watch the wilting flowers.

He never did.

And the world just kept going.)

**Author's Note:**

> sunflower_8, you motherfucker. I hate you and everything you stand for.
> 
> You died so many times- so many goddamn times. You and your e-loving ass.
> 
> This feud continues.


End file.
